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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #1955786
A fit of writer's block.
I sit at this table,
My paper at hand,
Ready to write
What my mind demands.

The paper stares back,
Its pages stark ad blank
Nothing flows through me,
My creativity has tanked.

Writer's Block has taken control
Left me with no story to tell.
I am stuck in this world,
The Writer's Hell.

I hate being stuck here,
In this world of white.
But I have no way to leave,
When I have nothing to write.

Oh dear Writer's Block,
Why must you visit me?
Why must you darken my door
And steal my creativity.

Sitting at this table
Blank pages do ensue.
Stuck in Writer's Hell,
Whatever shall I do?
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